I râd uin Guruthos The Path of Death
by Psyche of Night
Summary: Murdering an Elven prince isn't easy, not even for notorious assassin, Arlendae Prestale, a girl raised by the Wizard Saruman. Will she ever be able to open up her true feelings and self and stop denying the existance of love? When and if she does, will i


I râd uin Guruthos The Path of Death

Chapter one: Hail to the Thief

Authoress: Throughout the years of writing on , this is my most beloved story, and thus will be one of the few that is kept by me as I move on. I know that it wasn't all that good to begin with, yet I've matured a bit as a writer (Yeah HPRPG!! ), so I hope to have fixed it up enough that I can move up upon the Fanfiction Heriarchy.

English translation of Elvish words

Saruman to Arlendae through the Palantir

Arlendae to Saruman through the Palantir

flashback

The night of the twenty first of October was calm. The twinkling stars upon the lingering deep sea of black shone brightly, and the great celestial orb of Luna glowed with a rare light. Full moon was upon the dreaming inhabitants of Middle-Earth that night, so beautiful with a faraway serenity that many thought it to match the light of Earendil. True, the heavens were serene...yet in the world of men and elves, a different tone reigned.

A slight breeze stirred the crackling dry leaves upon the dusty ground, thus making a slight, but not always audible sound; yet somehow, even that was enough to wake the sleeping figure. He awoke with a jerk and his shoulders twitched in a shudder as he glanced around him cautiously; to him, nothing seemed amiss. But as he lay down again, relaxing a slight bit, a figure sprang on to him and threw a dagger down to his heart. He let out a sickening groan of pain, convulsed a couple of times, but was quickly silenced and grew limp as death took him victim.

His assassin let out a cold chuckle of satisfaction and then bestowed upon her victim a small kiss upon his blueish-red lips. Killing was so easy, so addicting, it gave her joy to look upon the face of her foolish victims, look into their eyes and see the raw, unhidden fear etched there. A slender hand reached forth, and then pulled the dagger out with a mucusy pop. She grimaced a bit at the grime and trickling red, but then wiped it on the bed, and silently left to receive her twenty-eighth assignment.

"_Back already my Angel of Death?" questioned a malicious voice, "'Twas only yesterday that I gave you the assignment. At this rate, there will be no one left to kill, my little elven princess...."_

"_I killed him this fast because he was foolish enough to let his guard down so swiftly." Replied the assassin, her voice equally wicked._

"_Did you give him his well deserved kiss?"_

"_Of course I did."And the Assassin smirked._

"_Ahh, sometimes I am tempted to give you an assignment to kill me, just for it..."_

"_Then you would be badly cheated, Saruman." Was the reply, "Until death has already claimed her share, I dare not touch those killed."_

"_Of course!" Saruman laughed "Arlendae, you just never can make a man happy."_

_At this, the young elven killer answered in a cool, nonchalant voice, "I have never needed to make a male happy to achieve my ends."_

"_Well then, I hope you never do have to." All hints of jocularity had dropped by now, and it was again, time for business. "For your next assignment, kill an elf named Legolas; he is the son of Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood."_

"_Saruman," Arlendae began, "If it is an elf of high blood, then he will be well protected. I need time, a fortnight, maybe, for a chance to kill him."_

"_Yes, I understand. You have exactly a month and a half to commit the deed. And- oh, yes, take this," He handed the elven girl an orb, "this is a Palandir, one of the seeing stones. Use it if you need to contact me"_

_That was the end of the conversation. Arlendae Prestale strode out of Isengard and proceeded on her new quest to kill the Prince of the Sylvan elves...Within minutes; her body had melted out amid the shadows of the trees._

__

Legolas, son of Thranduil the King, lifted his golden lashes and stirred in his room. Various shades of vermillion, orange, and yellow were splayed across his white walls through the open window; it was just after dawn and he wondered why he felt so thoroughly active. Within seconds, he remembered. He remembered that on this day, he would leave his homeland and go to Rivendell to take place in a council of great importance. How important? He didn't know.

Getting dressed was of no concequence, especially because all the movement he needed make was to lift up his arms as a tunic was fitted. That was the one thing good about being a Prince.

The great halls of Thranduil were bustling with maids and servants preparing for the prince's departure. Cakes, Lembas, arrows, and everything and anything he might need upon the journey were packed in neat bags upon Earuta, the great Stallion of Mirkwood. Soon, all was readied for the journey. Thranduil himself came down to bid his good son goodbye and gave him his prized bow. "Iutho ha sael, nin ion Use it wisely, my son"

Arlendae thought about the elf that Saruman assigned her to kill. She had never seen him, so she had better find out more information on this "Legolas," enough information so that she'd recognize him, or if not, at least get the basic description beyond the usual 'fair'. The only problem of now was that her best chance would probably come while the prince was on his road to Rivendell, so she did not have an exuberance of time. "Gurth teli am, neth ernil Death is coming for you, young Prince," was her last thought before once again melting into the shadows for a bit of rest.

Authoress: This is more or less of a re-post/heavily revised story. The only reason that I've kept this is because I sincerely love Arlendae as a character, and no matter what, I can't give her up. Playing her at Serium ) has developed her as a character a lot, so I thank everyone there as well. Oh yes, no flamers or anyone who is a self-declared knight for the destruction of 'crappy' stories. There are no crappy stories, only writers who might need help before coming up with a good story.


End file.
